


Mate Susan

by Transposable_Element



Series: Engagements [1]
Category: Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
Genre: F/M, Internment, Love, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transposable_Element/pseuds/Transposable_Element
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love during wartime may require a practical approach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mate Susan

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally titled "Love and Logistics," and then I realized that I'd overlooked a much better title....

**9 September, 1939**

Even after the war started, Gilberto Tedesco knew that coming to England had been the right decision. He found his work here much more interesting than the work he had been doing in Torino: by the time he left Italy it was hard to get interesting work if you weren’t a Party member, let alone if you were a Jew. He liked his colleagues and students at Kings College London. His English was improving. Every once in a while he was tripped up by an unfamiliar idiom, but otherwise he was reasonably fluent, and people told him that his accent was quite easy to understand (“much easier than a Scots accent,” according to his friend Harry). He didn’t even mind being called “Gil,” with a hard G. 

His main worry was about his parents and his two older sisters, who refused to leave Venice. As his father liked to point out, the Tedesco family had lived in Venice for more than 400 years. But in spring of 1938, Gilberto and his younger sister, Anna, had seen where things were heading and decided to leave for England while it was still possible. Some of his English colleagues arranged a job for him at King’s. And just in time, as it turned out: before the Evian Conference and before the _Manifesto della razza_. He and Anna had been unable so far to persuade the rest of their family to join them. In her last letter his mother had sounded as though she might be wavering. He hoped they would leave Italy before it was too late, although now there was the problem of where to go, since so few countries were accepting Jewish refugees. He had done his best, made all the arguments he could think of. Now it seemed unlikely that they would be reunited until after the war was over, and who knew how long that would be?

He would rather think about Susan Walker, the nursing student he had met through one of his own students, Dick Callum, nearly a year ago. For the first time in his life, he was in love. He knew that this was rather remarkable: he was nearly 30, and most of his friends had fallen in and out of love any number of times by the time they were his age. Apparently he had somehow known that the perfect woman was waiting for him, if only he was patient. She wasn’t Jewish, but that didn’t matter, not to Gil, who had not been observant since he went to university. And his parents weren’t here to object, he thought guiltily. He now marveled that the first time he met Susan, he had not thought her especially pretty. This had been very stupid of him, of course, but it was also true that she was prettiest when she was busy working on something. She had a kind of intelligence very different from his own: always observing what was going on around her and planning two steps ahead, thinking about how things ought to be, and how to make sure they turned out that way. And she loved the outdoors as much as he did, although so far they hadn’t had a chance to do much but talk about it. They had plans to go hiking and sailing, but now, with the war on, it might be a long time before they were able to do anything like that.

That afternoon Gil was working on a sensitive experiment, and as usual when he was concentrating on something delicate he was blind and deaf to everything around him. The other men in the lab were talking about the war incessantly, but most of what they were saying seemed to be a rehash of what people had been talking about for months. Things were changing now that war had actually been declared, but most of what they were talking about was still just speculation, and he tuned it out. Eventually, people started going home. He kept working.

The lab was quiet, so he was a little startled when he heard the clatter of someone running up the stairs. Susan appeared in the doorway, breathless, but she knew better than to run full tilt into a chemistry lab. “Gil, why are you still here? I tried ringing your boarding house…”

He was pipetting and couldn’t answer. He carefully dispensed the contents of the pipet into a test tube, took the end of the pipet out of his mouth, and said, “I’m working. I’m almost finished.”

“I can’t believe how calm you are when we’re at war!”

He was just as concerned as anybody, but getting excited wouldn’t help anything, and he didn’t want to lose a whole afternoon’s work. He stirred the mixture in the beaker with a glass rod. “Susan, please…this will just take a minute.” 

She sighed. “No wonder you and Dick get on so well,” she said.

A couple of minutes later he reached a point where the reactions were stable and he could put away the test tubes until tomorrow. He washed his hands, took off his lab coat, and came over to the door. “I’m sorry, _cara_ ,” he said. 

“It’s all right. I understand. Sometimes you have to get things done, no matter what.” She put her arms around him and rested her forehead on his shoulder. They stood there holding each other for a moment in silence. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Listen, Gil,” she said. She paused and took a deep breath. “I think we should get married.”

His heart leapt, and he tightened his arms around her. “I was planning to ask you. I didn’t realize this was the English way of doing things…”

She looked up, cheeks a little red. “It isn’t! You know that. I thought you might be going to ask me, and I would have waited, but…if Italy enters the war, you’ll be an enemy alien. You could be interned, or even deported.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, I do! Today I heard people talking about how they’re rounding up German nationals to go before tribunals, even though most of them are Jewish refugees! If we were married, it might help protect you. If we go to the register office tomorrow, we could be married by the end of the month.”

“But it might be months before Italy enters the war. Or never.”

“I know, but it’s better to be prepared, don’t you think? I don’t like to be caught by surprise. If we wait until we’re at war with Italy, it’ll be too late.”

“It’s a sensible enough reason to get married.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t love you,” she said. “If we didn’t love each other, it wouldn’t be sensible at all!”

“Well then, it’s sensible,” he said. “Very sensible.” Susan smiled, and he kissed her.

 

**26 October, 1939**

A lot of couples were getting married in a hurry, so when they went to register they found there were quite a few people ahead of them in the queue. Since they would have to wait anyway, they decided to have the wedding during half term, so that most of Susan’s family could be there. At least they didn’t have to worry that Gil would be called up. He would have to wait to meet Susan’s father and older brother until they came home on leave, and nobody knew when that would be, but he already knew Susan’s sister Titty, who had just started her nursing course. Mrs. Walker, Roger, and Bridget came down on the train. Anna was there, of course, and Dick Callum was Gil’s best man. They married in the register office with just the family and Dick, and then they had a small party at their new flat, which of course Susan had already set up quite comfortably. There they were joined by Dick’s sister and her fiancé, who had just finished his military training and was shipping out soon. There were also some old friends of Susan’s, the Blackett sisters, who were both planning to join the WRNS, as well as Gil’s friends Peter and Harry and the lab's principal investigator, Professor Thompson, along with their wives. They drank a toast to absent friends and family.

 

**12 June, 1940**

By now, Sergeant Pickering was prepared for almost anything—screams, tears, terrified wailing children. Not to mention communication problems and fisticuffs, which were the main reasons he was accompanied by Constable Mazzini, a big bloke with an Italian father who said very little except when called upon to translate. But Mrs. Tedesco managed to surprise them.

“Mrs. Gilberto Tedesco?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Sergeant Pickering, and this is Constable Mazzini. Is your husband at home?”

“Yes, he is. What’s this about, Sergeant?”

“I’m afraid we’re here to take him in for questioning. It may be a few days or weeks.”

“You’re arresting him?”

“In a manner of speaking. We’re bringing in Italian nationals, just for questioning. If he has nothing to hide, he ought to be home soon.”

“Yes, I see. Just a moment.” She started to turn, and then she stopped, turned back, and said, “My husband is Jewish. He hates the Fascists as much as we do.”

Pickering said, “I understand, Mrs. Tedesco, but it’s not for me to decide.”

She went down the hall and came back a few minutes later with her husband. She was carrying a suitcase. 

“Mr. Tedesco, I presume your wife has told you that you’re going to have to come with us.”

“Yes, of course. I understand.” The couple looked at each other. _Now’s when they break down_ , thought Pickering.

Instead, Mrs. Tedesco brushed away a tear and turned to Pickering. “We knew this might happen, so I’ve packed a suitcase. I didn’t know what Gil might be allowed to take with him, so would you please look in it and make sure that there isn't anything that he’s not allowed to have?”

Pickering was dumbfounded, but he opened the suitcase. It was neatly packed with clothes, toiletries, a couple of photographs, a leather writing case, and a chess set. He found three envelopes, unaddressed, but containing folded papers. “What are these?” he asked.

“My father and my brother are officers in the Royal Navy. I asked them to write letters on Gil’s behalf. And the other is from the head of his lab at Kings College, explaining that he has skills valuable to the war effort. They aren’t sealed, you can take a look if you like.”

He glanced at the letters. They seemed to be exactly what she said they were. He turned to Tedesco. “I don’t know if you’ll be allowed to keep these, Mr. Tedesco. It might be safer for your wife to hold onto them.”

“That’s all right. I have copies,” she said.

_Of course you do_ , thought Pickering. “Well, I don’t see anything here that ought to cause problems,” he said.

“Is he allowed books? I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t pack any, but I have some ready if it’s all right.”

Pickering really had no idea, so he said, “I think so, especially if they’re in English.” 

She showed him a stack of three novels, all in English, by English writers: _Pride and Prejudice_ , _The Pickwick Papers_ , _Barchester Towers_. Nothing controversial, and nothing grim or tragic, he noticed. No Thomas Hardy. He nodded, and she bent down and placed the books in the suitcase.

“Will I be allowed to write to my wife?” Tedesco asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t know. I can’t even say how long you’ll be gone, it may only be a few days. And now, we really must be going. I’m sorry, Mrs. Tedesco.”

Then there were kisses and tears, and all the usual declarations and promises. Apparently Mrs. Tedesco was nearly finished training as a nurse, and her husband urged her to concentrate on that, and not to worry about him. And apparently she was expecting, though she didn’t look it. 

Mazzini searched Tedesco and began to lead him out, holding him firmly by the arm. As they were leaving, Pickering turned back and said, “Mrs. Tedesco, we could use a woman like you in Logistics.”

 

**13 June – 20 June, 1940**

The day after Gilbert was taken away, Susan went down to the Home Office and spent the morning being passed from person to person, trying to find someone who could help her. Within a couple of hours she was losing her composure, but she knew that remaining polite and calm was essential. She went to the washroom, splashed cold water on her face, and steadied herself against the basin. She took a few deep breaths, squared her shoulders, and went out into the corridor. About an hour later she found a young woman, Miss Pym, who seemed to know how the tribunals worked and appeared sympathetic as well. Susan had brought copies of the letters from Father, John, and Professor Thompson, but she didn’t like to give them up without knowing exactly what would be done with them. Miss Pym wasn't sure.

Susan went back again almost every day for the next week, talking to various people. Gil had been taken to an internment camp on the Isle of Man, but that was all they would tell her. Finally she relinquished her letters to Miss Pym, who said she'd try to make sure they got to someone with authority to make decisions about tribunals. She could think of nothing else to do. She continued going down to the office once a week to ask for news, but there was really nothing to do but wait.

 

**5 July, 1940**

The newspaper headline read:

BRITISH LINER TORPEODOED OFF IRISH COAST   
GERMAN AND ITALIAN ALIENS ON BOARD 

Susan scanned the article feverishly. It said the passengers were being deported to Canada. “No estimate of the total casualties is yet possible, but the Italians, most of whom were traders in this country and were interned when Italy entered the war, appear to have been the worst sufferers.” The article described panic. Hundreds dead. 

There was no reason to think Gil was aboard, Susan told herself. If he were being deported, somebody would have informed her. Wouldn’t they?

 

**16 July, 1940**

When she spotted Gil stepping off the train she waved her hand over her head and started to push through the crowd on the platform. He looked thin and weary, but his face lit up when he caught sight of her. 

Fortunately people were much more tolerant of kissing and embracing in public these days than they used to be. After a few minutes of kisses and endearments, he asked, “How is Anna?”

“She’s fine. Didn’t you get any of my letters?”

“A few. I think they may have held back any that mentioned Anna.”

“Well, she’s fine,” she repeated. “She was taken for questioning, but she said she’d do whatever war work they assigned her to do, and they released her after a few days. She’s up in York. I sent her a wire as soon as I got your message that you'd been released.” She gave him the telegram Anna had sent in return. “I haven’t heard anything from your parents. I was hoping we might get a letter if they sent one before Mussolini declared war. I’m sorry. I think we won’t be hearing from them again for a while. Maybe not until the war is over.”

He nodded grimly. “How is John? And your father?” 

“Fine, as far as I know. Did their letters help?”

“I think so. The tribunal seemed to know about them even before I presented them. Did you give your copies to someone at the Home Office?”

“Yes. I never found out what happened to them.”

“Well, I think that must be why they called me before the tribunal after just a few weeks. I showed them the letters, and of course I told them that I was Jewish and had never been a member of the Fascist Party, and that I was married to a British subject and willing to do war work. It only took a few minutes for them to decide to release me. But I think I must be one of only a very few to be released so far.”

“How was it, really?”

“Not too bad. Dull. I left the chess set behind for the other men. And your books, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

“There's a little library at the camp, mostly donations from the Quakers. Lovely people, some of them visited to see how we were being treated. Perhaps I’ll become a Quaker myself…”

“You’d have to be a pacifist,” Susan said.

“Yes, I suppose that makes it a non starter,” he said, sighing. “How are you? Are you feeling all right?” 

He started to touch her belly with his hand, but she gently stopped him. “Not here on the platform, Gil!”

“Sorry…But we're rather in the way here, anyway.” He picked up the suitcase and they started pushing through the crowd and up onto the street. Their flat was close to Euston Station, and it didn't seem worth getting on the Tube. They walked down the street, holding hands tightly.

“I went over to talk to Professor Thompson yesterday,” she said. “A few more people have left to do war work. He said there are plenty of war industries that could use you. It would probably mean moving away from London.”

“That might be for the best, anyway,” he said. “From what I hear….”

She nodded soberly. Every day, a German invasion seemed more likely. “Let’s not worry about that now,” she said. “You’re home. That’s all I want to think about right now.” For once, she was happy not to try thinking two steps ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a paragraph of backstory for something else. Then I started looking stuff up because I was curious, and the whole thing got a bit out of hand. 
> 
> [Mouth pipetting](http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/bodyhorrors/2013/03/20/mouth_pipetting/#.U8BgSHm4nFJ) (even the idea of this freaks me out). 
> 
> [Internment of enemy aliens in the UK](http://www.airfieldinformationexchange.org/community/showthread.php?6891-WWII-Internment-Camps-in-the-Isle-of-Man).
> 
> [Sinking of the _Arandora Star_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SS_Arandora_Star).
> 
> A few quotes are taken directly from [here](http://digital.nls.uk/scotlandspages/timeline/1940.html).


End file.
